Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell
by HotHistorian
Summary: The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates problems for them. MarriageLaw, non-Slash, MPREG.
1. Chapter 1

** Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell

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**Author's Notes**: It's been a long time since I wrote fanfiction. I figured since I'll have a little time this summer to get back into it. Be wary; I'm a Harry Potter fan. So I decided to do a Harry Potter fanfic. I hope it doesn't become a huge project of mine. I changed accounts because I wanted, "out with the old and in with the new!" Sorry if this doesn't suit you, but it does me. Enjoy.

**Summary: **The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates new problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.

**Sidenotes: **Snape didn't die in my universe. Sorry canon-death fans, I had him resurrected. Oh yeah, and neither did Sirius, Tonks, or Remus.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does.

* * *

-HP-

* * *

July 22, 1998 Granger Diary

When the Minister for Magic dies, you know it's only a matter of time before the opposition starts scrabbling for the position. There is a reason why they weren't chosen the first time. That reason is blatantly simple – they weren't good enough for the wizards and witches of Britain.

I didn't think it was a horrible thing when the Minister for Magic died. I was quite grateful, actually. Perhaps I've been too conditioned towards the magical violence inflicted by Voldemort to care. I hate how this has hardened me. When that bastard, Scrimgeour, tried to play Harry that ridiculous "make-a-few-appearances," card and tried to keep our eyes from what Dumbledore gave to us in his will, I felt incredibly vexed at the man. I wanted to hex him into eternity. How dare he treat Harry, and Ron and I like that! He nearly abused the law and came perilously close to doing so.

Now, however, I am very worried. This new Minister that has just been elected by the Wizengamot, Cliventine Wornstock, could be a serious threat. He's been changing things…a little too fast. I thought this was all over after Voldemort was defeated, but I guess I was wrong. The Wizengamot's still in chaos.

The things he's been changing are simple but bold. He's allowed reporters more access to magical crime-scenes and has been tightening security around magical and muggle checkpoints like the Platform at 9 and ¾'s. Instead of a platform conductor of muggle descent, they've removed him in a place of a wizard. I don't know what purpose this serves except to allow us to be more vulnerable to discovery. He's a real nutjob too…Ivory Whitacre was his name, I think. Since Harry's been summoned by this new Minister for Magic, he's been getting this information from the Minister who wants to keep him informed on all the changes. Harry's been a little bit concerned about all the rapid changes. I mean, the crackdown hasn't just stretched from these checkpoints, but it has stretched into the employment field. The law is the law and it has to be followed, but what they're doing is ridiculous.

A new wizarding policing force is now in the works…and because of all the fears of another Dark Wizard rising, opposition is minimal. I fear for my friends and I. I can't imagine what the future entails if they're going to start constricting and taking away our rights. I feel like protesting or petitioning, but I'm still recovering from the last few months. I'm suffering from PTSD and I'm clinically depressed. I actually allowed my parents to take me to a psychiatrist and psychologist. I'm on this…Lexapro that makes me feel like I'm swimming through sludge. It's so difficult some days; I just stay in bed all day. I hate muggle medications, but my parents insisted and at this time, I believe it was the right move. It's the same for Harry and Ron. We all suffer from nightmares, even though none of them are the same. Fenrir…no one should have to understand what I went through in that hellish dungeon.

I'm too tired to write anymore. I got a book from Diagon Alley…maybe I'll skim through that before going to sleep.

Emotionally Drained,

Hermione Granger.

* * *

-HP-

* * *

"What do you mean I can't turn in my application? I have everything for you; I was promised a job as an Auror after I graduated-"

"Oh dear Mr. Potter, I'm so sorry, but that's precisely the point! You completely skipped your final year at Hogwarts…you can't become an Auror! You didn't graduate!"

"What do you mean, I can't become an Auror? That citation was specifically going to excuse me from my final year and allow me to work as an Auror here!"

"The person who initiated that honorary citation was in the running for the Minister for Magic, but he didn't win. It was a shocking loss and so your citation has been nullified! I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter! I would be happy to give you the job, I-I mean, you'd get it no problem _whatsoever,_ but you're going to have to take it up with the Minister!"

Harry was absolutely livid. How could they reject his application and nullify his citation after all he had been through to save the Wizarding World? To be rejected from becoming a protector or defender of the Wizarding World just on a technicality? It was nonsensical, outrageous, preposterous, cockamamie, idiotic, and derisible!

"Well, then, can you set me up an appointment with the Minister?"

The shrilly man at the desk peered down the ridge of his nose and said, "You'll have to take it up with the Minister's private secretary. Here's where her office is located."

He scribbled down a few numbers on a small slip of paper and whipped it out to Harry. Harry squeezed the slip of paper in his right hand, flung open the doors to the Auror's Office, and marched towards the elevators.

As he stood in the elevator, waiting to get to the Minister for Magic's floor, he stared at the floor. He could feel the other people's eyes in the elevator scrutinizing him, careful not to say anything. It was like this everywhere Harry went. If he wasn't being observed or whispered about behind his back, he was being read about in the papers or magical history books, and even jeered at by some conspiracy theorists.

He could never have a normal conversation again without someone bringing up his, "great defeat." _Great defeat, my arse,_ Harry thought. _I barely even know what happened except that I met Dumbledore in a pleasing purgatory place and I saw the drooling and screaming being called Voldemort, then killing the thing with some crazy-shit magic._

He practically leapt out of the elevators thanking a higher authority for getting him out of there. He gripped the slip of paper tighter and marched faster down the hallway. Two guards were stationed in front of the secretary's office.

"Before you go in you have to give me your wand, Potter," said the guard on the left, a sloppy looking fellow with a 5 o' clock shadow. With a startled gasp, Harry realized it was Crabbe.

"Damn, Crabbe, is it really you?" Harry asked, flabbergasted. "I thought you had joined the Death Eaters for good-"

"I wimped out and got the charges against me dropped," Crabbe said miserably. "As long as I worked in this silly job, I would stay out of Azkaban."

"Well, " Harry said, irritation leaking into his tone, "At least you _have _a job. My citation's been nullified and I need to get it reinstated by talking to the Minister. Can I take my wand with me? I'm kind of…an important figure and it'd be really nice to have something for self-defense. You know, just in case. "

"Sorry, Potter," Crabbed sneered. "The Minister said no exceptions, so no exceptions, unless you'd like my friend Willis here to escort you out?"

Harry glanced at the tall, tan, and dark looking man beside Crabbe. Willis cracked open his mouth and it revealed a couple of gold crowned teeth.

"Fine, whatever, here's my damn wand, and if you break it, Crabbe, I swear I'll hex you into oblivion!" Harry practically threw the wand at Crabbe's head, but Crabbe caught it mid-air and smirked. "How're you gonna do that without a wand?" Crabbe asked.

"Don't be a smart-arse!" Harry yelled back at him. He threw open the door to the private secretary's office and with an annoyed huff, slammed it shut.

* * *

-FIN-

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**Author's Notes: **I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. MPREG and MarriageLaw will come into play in later chapters. Please READ AND REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

** Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell**

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**Author's Notes**: It's been a very busy two weeks…getting up every morning at 5, driving til about 7:45, going to class all day, and then driving back home about 2:30. That type of thing every day. Imagine that. So, here's a present. I'm sorry for the delay. Please read and review.

**Summary: **The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates new problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.

**Sidenotes: **Snape didn't die in my universe. Sorry canon-death fans, I had him resurrected. Oh yeah, and neither did Sirius, Tonks, or Remus. And nothing happened to our famous Weasley twins!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does.

-HP-

* * *

**Wizarding World Savior Can't Get a Job**

July 24th, 1998

Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, has run into a problem. With the death of our late Minister for Magic, there was the death of Mr. Potter's honorary citation ensuring him a job as an Auror without graduating from Hogwarts. It seems as though the same citation was granted to his closest friends who worked alongside Mr. Potter.

Mr. Potter's citation was nullified after the death of the former Minister for Magic. There were reports of Mr. Potter going to speak with our new Minister for Magic, Cliventine Wornstock, to have the citation reinstated or to make the nullification void. However, it was reported that Mr. Potter's request was denied. Our best reporter, Hollister Skyves, asked for a comment regarding Mr. Potter's request. Thankfully, Minister Wornstock was willing to give us one; his explanation was very simple:

"Just because Mr. Potter saved the Wizarding World does _not_ mean that he's exempt from the law. Everyone is to be treated equally, regardless of social standing. Mr. Potter's citation will not be reinstated and if Mr. Potter wants to get a job as an Auror, he will have to graduate from Hogwarts like _everyone else._"

That was as far as Hermione got before throwing down the Daily Prophet and nearly bending her spoon. "You do realize, Ronald, that this means that our own citations will be rejected too. I'm actually sad that Scrimgeour had to die at the hand of Voldemort, even though he treated us horribly."

Ron looked thoughtfully down at the paper and said, "You know, I kind of want to spend a last year at Hogwarts. Obviously, the time spent there during our 7th year was pretty awful, what with the Death Eaters and Dark Arts teachers. We would've been doomed had Neville not helped us with the Room of Requirement."

"True," Hermione said. She gently wiped a coffee ring from the Weasley's table, and set her mug down on a napkin. "I guess we'll have to re-enroll. I really didn't want to have to go back again."

Mrs. Weasley bustled in hurriedly and said, "Oh, I have some of the best news!" She clapped her hands together and then pulled a letter out the front pocket of her apron. "Dear goodness me, I'm so thrilled!" she giggled excitedly and her face turned pink. "Bill and Fleur are having a baby! Dear me, I didn't think they would have child this soon, but Merlin's beard, I'm going to be a grandmother!" She shook her fists wildly in the air and did a little hop-step in the middle of the kitchen.

Ron's eyes widened a bit and Hermione's face broke into a grin. "We should get them together and celebrate!" Ron suggested. "Why didn't Bill just get us all together instead of telling us in a stupid letter?" He almost sounded soured by the news.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said thoughtfully. "I don't think Fleur's up to it. By the sounds of it, Fleur is as delicate as she appears, poor thing. I'll definitely have to pay them a visit tomorrow."

She went to the magical icebox and the insides of the cupboards, eyeing them carefully. "I suppose I'll have to head into Diagon Alley for some supplies for my special anti-nausea potion…I'll probably have to stop into the apothecary for that. You two should join me! I could use a few extra arms."

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, but only Hmerione smiled. "Only if we can stop at Honeydukes while we're there," Hermione said, attempting to lighten Ron's dismal face. Mrs. Weasley bobbed her head of red and graying hair and said, "Of course, dears. Now come along!"

* * *

-HP-

* * *

Walking with the Weasleys was always an entertaining adventure, especially if the entire family was together. It was comical. If Mrs. Weasley stopped to look at something in a window, then chances were, the entire family would stop and cause a chain reaction of stumbling over each other's feet. People gawked at them, some snickered, and others, like the Malfoys, looked on in disdain.

However, Hermione was happy that she had the opportunity to go out with the Weasleys. She had wanted to get some time to spend with Ronald. They seemed to have a sort of falling out after the Hogwarts Battle. They were still considered an item, but they couldn't get intimate or close. He was very detached.

Ronald hadn't even kissed her once since he had retrieved those Basilisk fangs from the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione shrugged it off as the depression both of them were suffering, but nothing had improved. She was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to have the relationship they once had.

While they were walking towards the apothecary, Hermione attempted to slip her hand into Ron's. He slipped his own hands into his pockets. She looked at him, almost surprised by this move. He didn't look back. He was ignoring her.

Hermione felt hot anger rise up to her already pink cheeks and ran forward with Mrs. Weasley, hoping to be spoken to; she hoped to get her mind off of Ron. Ginny was with them, but she was more cheerful than any of her brothers. The twins were off managing their shop, and Mr. Weasley was inspecting a series of muggle item enchantments that included muggle headphones that screamed so loud once one put them on, they were deaf for ten days.

Bill, he was obviously with Fleur back at their new home in wizarding country and Percy was back at the Ministry, working with that dratted new Minister for Magic. Thankfully, this time, Percy held the same idea as the Weasleys…that Minister Wornstock was a giant ball of hot air ready to unleash heat onto the poor witches and wizards of London. As for Charlie…well, he was somewhere.

They saw the shop that was labeled, "Apothecary," and Mrs. Weasley bustled in with Hermione and then Ron following close behind. When Hermione entered, she couldn't see anyone behind the counter. She made quick glances around the apothecary in search of the owner; it appeared as if he wasn't there. He heard a kind of muffled, "oomph, " behind the door to the next room adjoined to the front and then an even more muffled, "Can you get that?"

Hermione heard footsteps, somewhat familiar footsteps step up to the door, the door opened with a creak, and with a sharp click of the heel, Hermione barely had to look at his face know who it was. "Professor Snape?"

-Fin-

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**Author's Notes:** I can only guess when I'll get the next chapter out. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell**

**Author's Notes**: I'm so sorry for taking so long. College can take a lot out of me, especially in the summer. Be happy I was actually able to update, lol.

**Summary: **The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates new problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does…sadly.

* * *

-HP-

* * *

Seeing Ms. Granger for the first time since the citation ceremony was quite intriguing. She looked worn and tired. There was a smidgen of relief in her eyes, but barely anything besides exhaustion. I can't blame her-everyone was tired during the ceremony. Myself especially.

I had no intention of staying around for the ceremony. I just wanted to go back to Spinner's End and bury my head the nearest pillow. These were probably the side effects of the Vita Perseverat Draft otherwise as the Dead-Man Walking Draft. I was still taking potions to counterattack the lingering side effects of it, as I still was that day Ms. Granger and two of the Weasleys walked through the door.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. It's been a while," I said, attempting my best to sound civil. The current owner of the apothecary had warned me on several occasions that sneering and being my, "usual sarcastic self," would lose potential customers. The wizarding economy needed boosting after the war with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, so many shop owners were trying to encourage more people to venture into Diagon Alley by enticing sales. Some of the sales were absolutely ludicrous, namely the Weasley twins joke-shop sales. The "You-Know-Poo Down the Loo," was the current sale and business for the Weasley twins was booming. Buy anything in the store and get a free pimple-vanishing potion. It attracted many, many teenagers because walking out with a pimple-vanishing potion was embarrassing. If everyone walked out with one, it wasn't embarrassing anymore. And the person could refuse the potion if they wanted too. Ingenius.

The apothecary had a sale: Buy a potion of 30 galleons or more and get the next one (under 30 galleons of course) half-price. It wasn't exactly what one would call a good sale, but business had picked up some pace whereas before there hadn't been many customers at all. His latest customer was standing at the front of the store, staring at him comfortably.

Ms. Granger looked extremely surprised by my greeting but nodded her head in my direction. "How are you, Professor Snape?" she asked. _Leave it to Granger to maintain that scholarly feel, _I thought. "Relatively content now that I have secured a position at Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for the semester. I'm sure you've already heard this."

She nodded. "And I'm also aware that you will be returning to us for another year seeing as how you skipped out on the final year to go and defeat the Dark Lord," I said. She gave me a calculating look and stated plainly, "The new minister is far too bookish, in my opinion. If he'd stop looking at ancient wizarding laws and start reading modern texts on political theories for wizards then maybe he would actually make a decent minister."

Ron Weasley let out an irritated snort. I had heard their falling out rumors, and was only too relieved at the news. Ms. Granger had far too much potential to ruin her life with that immature redhead of a man. She needed someone with much more cleverness to satisfy her needs.

I let a smirk sneak across my face. Ms. Granger was always blatant about her opinion. She had a headstrong nature about her. This was something I admired about the girl.

"Oh Snape, it's good to see you again!" said Mrs. Weasley, who bustled in behind Ms. Granger, dragging two of her children behind. "I'm thrilled to hear about your return to Hogwarts! I know how much you wanted that Defense Against the Dark Arts position. However, we didn't come here for chitchat…I'm quite busy, you see. I actually am in need of some ginger-root, salts, blackberry, chamomile, and peppermint!"

I recognized those ingredients. I knew when she ordered them. _I can't believe she's THAT fertile, _I thought. I felt my jaw unhinge slightly. After a second or two I was able to form words. "Again, Mrs. Weasley? Will we be seeing another redhead in the coming months?"

"Oh-hohohoho no, my dear Severus!" she guffawed in her usually boisterous manner. "But, yes, there will be another Weasley! I'm going to be a grandmother!"

I wanted to kill myself then and there. To think I would eventually be teaching a new generation of Weasleys…did their hair ever change? Their demeanor? Or would it always be the color of red? Fiery and Gryffindor?

"Bill and Fleur are going to have my grandchild!" she went on to say excitedly. "But poor Fleur, the poor thing, she's so fragile, dear girl. She's ill and I need those ingredients as soon as you can, Severus."

Mrs. Weasley was always a jack-of-all-trades, not necessarily a master of any skill. However, there was one thing she was quite the master of, and that was the anti-nausea potion she concocted when she or a family member needed it. Even I, the Potions Master of all things, was barely capable of making a better potion.

I wasn't exactly sure what she put into it that made it so potent (perhaps love, or something of that sentimental nature), but it was extremely effective in relieving the nausea experienced during a pregnancy or illness. I went to the back, stepped over the fat storeowner, and grabbed the ingredients off of the shelves, stuffed them into individual jars and containers, then held them out to Molly.

"Congratulations on the next generation of Weasleys, Molly," I said, trying my best to sound sincere, even though this was the type of news I had to clench my teeth through. She smiled enthusiastically and took the ingredients. She thrust out 20 galleons, started humming, took her son and daughter by the hands, and dragged them out of the apothecary. The woman was practically skipping.

"It was good to see you again, Professor." The Granger girl whirled around and left. I'm quite sad to say, I actually missed that little know-it-all. Damnit. I'm going soft.

* * *

-Fin-

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**Author's Notes: **Yeah, yeah, this wasn't that long of a chapter and I haven't uploaded in a while. Sorry. I've been…drawing a lot. Not so much writing. It saddens me. Please read and review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell**

**Author's Notes**: Blah. College. It's caused me to write wonderful papers and terrible fanfiction. Sorry readers.

**Summary: **The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does…sadly.

* * *

-HP-

* * *

August 13th, 1998

"Well, I believe the vote is unanimous. Congratulations, Mr. Valatio, your bill has passed the Wizengamot. Your ten minutes impressed many of the Wizengamot's members. We cannot wait to see this new law in action, to protect the little wizards of Great Britain," said an old wizard by the name of Judge Tibbs. He was a stocky and old fellow, but it appeared he had a sharp mind. Note: the Wizengamot judge only _appeared_ to have a sharp mind.

The elderly wizard held the parchment at eye-level and flicked his wand at it. A yellow spark attached his wand to the parchment, and the paper zipped straight into an enormous magically bound book called, "Current Wizarding Law 1999 to 2000."

The book was automatically updated every year. This year was going to be an interesting one; nobody knew what was to come. A few seconds after the law was attached to the book, Judge Tibbs closed it. Or at least tried to.

"Eh? What in Merlin's balls—"

Try as he might, the poor old wizard couldn't close the thing. 15 seconds, 30 seconds, 45 seconds…the damn book of law still wouldn't shut. He could barely lift the book's cover off the table.

"What is the meaning of this?" Cried the judge in anger. "Did someone tamper with this? Who tampered with-"

Just then, the new page of Wizarding Law began to glow. Judge Tibbs moved his long silver hair out of his face, adjusted his small round glasses, and glared at the page. After a minute or so of scanning, he took in a deep breath, and shouted, "Mr. Valatio! What is the meaning of this *hidden amendment?"

But somehow, Mr. Valatio had disappeared from underneath the Wizengamot's beady eyes. The law was set. Mr. Valatio had tricked the Wizengamot into accepting the bill.

Hell would be raised.

* * *

Memos were flying all around the Ministry. Arthur Weasley swore he had never seen as many flying papers as he did that day. "I wonder what's going on?" he asked Alabaster Huttle, a Magical Artifacts representative from Ireland.

"I 'ave no idea, really," said Alabaster. "I assume we'll get a memo about it sooner or later." A man ran past the both of them and launched into the elevator. He pressed the button to get to the Wizengamot one time, two times, and then three times.

"I'll kill those bastards!" he shouted, and the elevator doors shut.

"Whatever it is, it's getting some people quite riled up," chuckled Mr. Weasley. "It must be some sort of new broom flying restriction, I expect. I'll be in my office waiting for the memo." After seeing the angry man rush into the elevator, he decided he would take the stairs.

He made his way down and as he approached his office door, he noticed that there was a rather large crowd gathering around his office, all speaking in both angry shouts and tense whispers. There were statements of, "Who the hell's responsible?" and "What the bloody hell was the Wizengamot thinking?" and of course, "Screw the Ministry; I'm not taking part in this. I'd rather go to Azkaban."

Arthur looked around the room and saw Finnegan, a close friend in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Departments, and asked, "What's all the ruckus about? I only just got here and I find everyone angry and yelling at memos. What in the world's changed?"

Finnegan was a tall, slender, and very lanky man. He spoke with a bit of a lisp and had pus-filled pimples covering his forehead and chin. He wasn't a looker to any one woman at all, except to maybe his mother. And his personality was not very appealing either—he was quiet and awkward around women and when he wasn't quiet and awkward, he was solemn and depressing. He was single, obviously, but he wasn't a day over 25.

Today, he would've competed over the spot for Eeyore in the muggle book Winnie the Pooh.

"I'm going to be married," he said. Dread drenched his dismal tone.

Arthur's eyebrows went up and he instantly patted Finnegan on the shoulder going into what the Weasley twins would call, "father-mode." "Congratulations, Finnegan! Who's the lucky chickadee?"

Finnegan's face paled and he said, "I have no bloody idea." Finnegan handed over the memo to Mr. Weasley, and when Mr. Weasley read the contents of it, he guffawed and said, "Oh for the love of Merlin, this has to be a joke!"

The memo was simple in text, but required an enormous amount of thought and worry:

"Dear Mr. Finnegan Bartley,

Congratulations! You will be marrying within a month! A new law has been passed called the Pureblood Population Law. This new amendment will promote the repopulation of pureblood wizards and witches among the British, Scottish, Welsh, and Irish magic population. You will be married to a randomly selected witch either being half-blood or pureblood. You will marry her within the month of September and if you don't marry within that month, the Pureblood Population Law states that you will be sent to Azkaban for a year. If you do marry, then you must have a biological child within two years of marriage, and after that, you are free to divorce. Do not hesitate to contact the Ministry for more information.

Sincerely,

The Wizengamot."

Finnegan's face didn't brighten to Mr. Weasley's disbelieving remark. "It's not a joke. Everyone who isn't married has gotten the memo and there are members of the Wizengamot who are putting up a fight to this…but the Minister claims he can't do a thing about it because the bill was just permanently placed into the Current Wizarding Law book. It also has a fail-safe…the ink won't fade and the page won't release until two years pass. The law has to be followed and whoever disobeys will be thrown into Azkaban. Whoever it was magicked the ink so well that the laws are immediately instated. If they can magick it that well, then they can magick it so that if the law is disobeyed, magic could easily transport someone to Azkaban. It was a *pork-barrel amendment, you know, designed to create a greater pureblood population."

Arthur looked at Finnegan in disbelief. "Really now? I'm going to see the Minister about this, or at least someone close to him. I don't believe it—I mean, really, how can they magick the entire wizarding population? They would have to do so individually—"

Finnegan looked even more ashamed now and said, "They already did. These memos were pre-planned. The person who the memo was for was given…this new Pureblood Population magic. See, look," he said. He flipped over the small memo and showed him the magical thumbprint runes covering it. "Those spell runes weren't on it when I got the memo. It's like a ticking time bomb. You touch it, and the spell activates for you. Someone told me there was an age limit—no one will have this sent to them who's under the age of 18. The only halfway decent thing about this is that…I don't have to find someone to marry me. They've gotten Hogwarts involved."

Arthur once again looked at Finnegan in disbelief. "I don't see it anywhere on this memo—"

"I've gotten some info from an inside source—an angry Wizengamot court-member. I believe his name was Jeevish Pyre, or something like that, Peevish Jyre, maybe? Anyways, it looks like the bride or groom won't be randomly selected at all. They're going to use the damn Sorting Hat to pick out who gets paired with who," he said, his voice dipping to even more depressing levels.

Finnegan was a known Hufflepuff, and many of his friends knew he resented the Sorting Hat for throwing him in there. He wanted to be in Ravenclaw, like his parents, but it appeared that two geniuses made a retard. Finnegan was inept at almost any and all spells, but what was weird was that he wasn't a Squib. He could do a spell, but when he did it, it came out backwards or failed in someway. His parents assumed he was an idiot and forever treated him like the dunce he looked like. He hated Hufflepuff for creating an even more undesirable persona of the "idiot-child."

Thus, he always resented the Sorting Hat. Leave it to a crazy, singing, pointy hat to kill a great life full of genius potential.

Arthur stared at the memo, and then stared back at Finnegan and said, "I've got to get home before any member of my family touches this. Merlin's balls—"

He ran off in the direction of the already filled elevator, pushed his way inside, and let the door close. "Please, don't get the memo, don't get the memo, don't get the memo," he begged silently to himself as he went up towards the surface, hoping to get an unclogged Floo ride back home.

-Fin-

*Hidden-Amendment/Pork Barrel Amendment – a hidden amendment that can be placed inside a proposed bill. It has to be there, but it can be there, usually for the benefit of a benefactor towards the proposition of the bill. Can you guess who, in this story?

I'm not making this up, though. Really, there's such a thing. Look it up. It's normally thrown in with a REALLY GOOD SOUNDING BILL. It's a hidden amendment. The Road/Bridge to Nowhere? In place thanks to a Pork-Barrel Amendment.

I love written politics. Oh, so much fun to decipher.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hoped to make up the length of my last chapter with the length of this one. Sorry for the delay—lots of art, not much time for anything else save for college work and other papers. Enjoy. :) READ AND REVIEW! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell

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**Author's Notes**: Can't guarantee when the next update will be, but I can say that it's not a test week! I only have one lonely test this week. Oh huzzah.

**Summary: **The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.

**Notes: **Hedwig is dead. Sadly. I feel like she's the only one whose death was decent. The bird died in battle. I will not be reviving her.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does…sadly.

* * *

-HP-

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August 13th, 1998

_Thump, thump, thump…_

"Oh, stop it. It's too early to get out of bed…on a Friday. Before school even _starts for the semester_ of all things."

_Tap, tap, tap…_

"Really now, you've moved from the knocker to the window itself. Just stop it and let me sleep."

_Thump, thump, thump…_

"Back to the knocker again, I hear."

_Tap, tap, tap…_

"And you're at the window again. Dammit Pig, you're such an impatient thing. At least you don't fall when you tap your beak against the window like Errol. I'm coming, I'm coming."

Ron, grumpy and groggy, hopped out of his orange-blanketed bed. He slipped on some hand knit socks (for it was far too brisk a morning to be sockless) and stumbled into the kitchen where he opened the window for the impatient little runt of an owl.

"What've you got for me, Pig?" he asked, and the owl handed him the letter. He carefully broke the seal of the letter and touched the letter, beginning to open it at the folds. It lit up momentarily and Ron stared at the newly formed runes…and then at the content of the letter.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT LETTER!" cried Mr. Weasley. He had burst through the fireplace, the floo network, and was now standing in the middle of the kitchen, mouth agape, and hand thrust forwards as if to grab some magic, invisible object midair.

Ron was highly unlucky, for his fingers were not only touching the letter, but he was also holding the now broken wax seal in his left hand. Oh yes, the magic had been unleashed and Ron was now in a wedding debt.

"Oh Merlin, no," mumbled Mr. Weasley, and he took of his hat, rubbing a hand through his very thin red hair. "Your mother will have a field day with this one. Especially with Fred and George…oh Lord, can you imagine, the two of them getting married? It's too late now. If you've already got yours, then there is no doubt that Fred, George, Percy, and Charlie have already got their letters…thank Merlin, Ginny is too young to get a letter like that. Where's your mum? I wonder if she's heard anything about this."

"At Bill and Fleur's, giving Fleur some anti-nausea potion, or something," he mumbled, wide-eyed and staring at his father who was making absolutely no sense at all. "What's this about, anyways?"

Ron heard his father say under his breath, "Just read the damn letter…" right before he flooed to the cottage, leaving a puff of ash behind. Ron didn't even have time to read it. Why in the world was his dad so horrified at the thought of one of his children opening up this letter? Did it contain a curse? What was that little bit about marriage?

He glanced at the letter and blanched at its contents. No wonder his dad was going helter-skelter about everything. He had to be married since he wasn't already. And he had to have aw kid. "What the bloody effin' hell…" he mumbled examining not once, twice, but three times over to make sure that he was reading the letter correctly. Hermione would be proud of his thoroughness—Hermione!

He completely forgot about Hermione. He also forgot about Harry. They would be getting those letters about this time now too. His dad was probably right; attempting to alert them about this would be useless. He'd wind up right in the middle of Harry's living room shrieking, "DON'T TOUCH THE LETTER!"

Harry would already have his hand snaked around the folds, probably. Hermione would also have the same problem. It would still be nice to visit them and try and comfort his best mate through this trying time…any excuse for a butterbeer.

He was going to get married. He was going to be a father. He didn't deserve butterbeer…he deserved firewhiskey. This was the type of news you drank to. "Drown your sorrows in a shot of firewhiskey," so said the gold goblin, down on his luck. Better to find a drinking buddy, though.

He sat on the scraggly, year-worn couch for a few minutes, breathless. After he managed to gather what energy and air reserves he had left, he got up, went over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo-powder, stepped inside, and shouted, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place!" With a flash of green fire, Ron had transported from one unhappy house, to the next.

* * *

It wasn't a surprise to Ron that when he entered the house, the first voice he could hear was Hermione's. She was furious. You could always tell when she was furious. She would clench her teeth, her voice would hike, and it would crack when she wanted to accentuate something.

"I can't believe it! I don't believe it; I refuse!" Hermione was fuming and pacing in front of Harry. She was practically shrieking under her teeth. "Those bastards at the Ministry...what the hell were they thinking? I mean really, Harry! We have every right to go down there and demand a recount! Oh, hello Ron…"

He half-heartedly waved at her, and she simply shrugged him away.

Oh heavens. When Hermione began to use the phrase, "I mean really, [name]" you pretty much knew she was past "furious" and into "enraged." It was only a matter of time before her wand began to shoot sparks, and Ron was surprised it hadn't begun to fire already.

"Who do you think is behind it?" Harry asked quietly, looking up at her with ice eyes. He was mysteriously calm. It was a bit disturbing.

"Probably the Malfoys or a supporter of the Malfoys," Hermione muttered angrily. Her face was beginning to flush. "I really don't believe this. This can't be happening, and if it is, I refuse to allow it to happen!" She crossed her arms and resumed her pacing.

Harry heard a loud series of knocks on the windows. He got up from the couch, zombie-like, and opened it. Three wind-worn owls burst through the window and plopped down on the edges of the couch. Each had a red envelope in their beaks with a golden ministry seal.

"They've got howlers, Harry," Ron said, pointing at them. His expression had been dulled by shock, and if Snape had been there to see his expression, he would have called Ron a dunderhead like always, but this time it would've _looked_ true. Harry sighed and took the owl's letter nearest him.

"No, Harry!" Hermione gasped. "If you touch it, it may activate a spell or something…please, don't open it!"

Harry apparently didn't care; he ripped open the letter and allowed the letter to speak.

It took a minute for the letter to unhinge itself from the remaining pieces of sealed envelope, but once it was hovering up in the air, it began to read aloud its written statement.

"Congratulations Mr. Harry Potter, you are now betrothed. On August 20th – 31st, the sorting hat will be available at the Ministry of Magic to determine your significant other. If you do not show up on these dates or those in-between, you will be sent to Azkaban for a court-appointed time period. Do not be late!

Sincerely,

Office of Ministry Appointments: Ministry of Magic."

Hermione looked absolutely infuriated at the letter and snatched her letter out of a tawny owl's beak. The owl squawked at her irritably, and flew out the window like other one. She ripped open her letter and it began the same exact statement. "Oh, for the love of Merlin's balls, Ron, get your damn letter!"

He opened his and it said the same thing. "Do you believe this?" Ron asked over the talking of the letter.

Hermione's face was darker than Ron had ever seen it. She lifted her wand, pointed it at the still talking letter. A spark hit the letter and it flew to the floor. "No," she said, her voice deeper than he had ever heard it.

"Just what the hell do you suppose we're gonna do?" Ron asked, his voice starting to crack. He began a panicky pace across the room and said, "Do any of you want to go to Azkaban? How long do you suppose the sentence is? Could we survive six months in prison? Or longer?"

Hermione and Harry just stared at him. "What if we get married off to someone who's really ugly?" Ron continued. "Or someone who's incredibly whiny or bitchy? I wouldn't want to be married off to a remake of Moaning Myrtle or Cho Chang!"

"Cho Chang was _not_ a bitch, Ron, she was a traitor!" Harry said angrily, and he began a tirade both supporting her and belittling her. Finally, Hermione had enough.

"You two! Shut the _fuck_ up!"

It was Harry and Ron's turn to stare. "Hermione," Ron said, almost in awe, "You just swore!"

"And it was in an attempt to get you to stop bickering over nonsense and focus your attention on the _real_ problem here!" she shrieked. "My God, you two are making Dumbledore turn somersaults in his grave! What would he do if he could hear you right now? He'd probably smack you both with silencio spells and throw you into a broom closet! We're going to go to the Ministry on the 20th and we are going to demand a recount of this newly enacted bill. I'll organize a mob or rally…whichever comes first, and you two will back me! Do you _understand_?"

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, then back at Hermione. A "Yes ma'am," was said quite loudly and in unison. That was the end of bickering and the beginning of organizing.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hoped to make up the length of my last chapter with the length of this one. Sorry for the delay—lots of art, not much time for anything else save for college work and other papers. Enjoy. :) READ AND REVIEW! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell**

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**

**Author's Notes**: Once again, I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I will try to update. I love the feeling when I update, but I just don't have the time to do it as much. It makes me sad.

**Summary: **The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.

**Notes:** Did I mention that BOTH twins are alive and well in this?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does…sadly.

* * *

-HP-

August 18th, 1998

Hermione, with the help of Kreacher, had not only put out tables and chairs for this "mob," but had also laid out a spread of snacks. Fred and George had already arrived and were stuffing their faces as fast as they could.

"Do you have to be so rude?" Hermione huffed. "I've laid out many snacks, yet you have the gall to eat them all before anyone else arrives!" Fred and George shrugged but made their way into the parlor before Hermione could hex them.

Sirius had been away at Remus and Tonk's place for a good week and a half but had come back as soon as he received word of the infamous letters sent out by the Ministry. It took a while for him to get the news because he didn't actually receive a letter himself. Perhaps after being a criminal for so many years, whoever was "assigned," to him would risk imprisonment rather than a marriage to a man who had that stigma, not matter how innocent, upon his name.

There were a few others who came-some out of hatred for the rash decision making of the Ministry and some who had received letters themselves. Remus and Tonks, since they were already married, hadn't any letters but there was one older member who had actually received a letter.

Professor Severus Snape was that unfortunate victim. The man was _far_ from pleased. He was extremely irritable as a result of receiving the letter. He was huddled, practically folded over himself in a chair at the far edge of the room, glaring at the parchment in hand.

How he utterly despised marriages of convenience. This was more of an inconvenience, but a convenience for the Ministry, at least that was certain. He did not want to be married, nor did he want to go to Azkaban. He could only pity the girl who would be married off to him and he could only pity himself for becoming such a tired and worn man that the idea of a year or more in Azkaban rattled his very being.

He did not want to encounter dementors and he did not want to encounter anything in that filth of a prison. Whoever had written this document insisting upon Pureblood rule was certainly out to make martyrs of wizards.

The kitchen of Grimmauld place was jam-packed with women of the Order. Hermione, Ginny, Minerva, Molly, and Fleur were all fingering their pumpkin juice glasses and whispering to each other. Fleur, Molly, Minerva and Ginny had all escaped the accursed letter, so they now gave their support to Hermione who was still infuriated with the Ministry's actions.

"We can't allow zhis!" said Fleur empathetically, patting Hermione's shoulder. "Zhe Ministry will have to form some sort of amendment or recount. Zhere should be safeguards up against such zhings! Don't worry, Hermione, dear, we'll do all in our power to make sure zhis doesn't happen!"

This statement sounded weak to everyone in the group. Fleur looked power_less_ in her peaky state and Ginny, the skimpy almost-adult, was also there at Hermione's side. Weak support, really. Mrs. Weasley wasn't helping matters much either. She had spent the majority of her time working in the kitchen, making sure everyone had a drink, and cooing over her own children, especially Ron and the twins, attempting to make them "come-to-terms," with it.

Mrs. Weasley had her own secret reasons for wanting this to go through: Grandchildren. She had wanted them for the longest time and it seemed as though she was going to get her first from Fleur…and then it would be a cascade of them, she hoped, ranging from Ron's children to Fred and George's children. She wasn't too loud about voicing her opinion, obviously.

It seemed as though the only woman just about as passionate about this as Hermione was Minerva. Quite a force Hermione and Minerva could weave, but would their plans of defying the Ministry succeed? Everyone could only hope for the best and resist the urge to resort to violence.

At about a quarter past six, Minerva and Mrs. Weasley all ushered stragglers, Order members or not, into the living room of Grimmauld place. When they had all settled down, Minerva began a very enthralling speech about the Ministry's difficulties since Voldemort's demise – the Ministry's numbers had diminished since the war and it was difficult to find a strong leader in these times. She explained how the Ministry's actions were a result of the new Minister for Magic's folly, and how the wizarding world's actions against this new amendment may, in fact, strengthen the Ministry.

"We must not resort to violence," Minerva said, a furious blush creeping up her wrinkled face. "We cannot let this be the cause or the start of a civil war." The room quieted. Oh, she had finally let the nagging thought creep out of the bag. They were all thinking the same thing, but she had finally allowed it to be brought out into the open.

Whispers ignited around the room, and everyone stared at her. Even Snape lifted his head to gaze at the woman who was making those statements. He glanced at Hermione, whom he noticed was staring at her feet. Minerva's statement was obviously unprecedented. "If you think we'll let marriage and children be the start of a civil war, you're wrong, Minerva," Molly Weasley said, coming up behind her and placing a gentle hand on the older woman's shoulder. "I won't let that happen, and neither will anyone else. We'll not resort to violence. Who agrees?"

A hoard of hands rose from the cold, grave-like seats that many members of the Order were occupying. No one wanted _another_ war. Especially after the last one. Molly was right. No one wanted a war, especially a civil war, over marriage and children. That was a thing to be sought for, not resented.

"Good," Hermione interjected. "We will meet in the main lobby of the Ministry tomorrow and begin our rally against them around 8 o'clock. You're to bring posters, but it's supposed to be a mute rally. If we make a ruckus, they'll kick us out. However, if we keep quiet but get our point across, they'll have no right to kiss us goodbye."

"Brilliant," Snape snarled to the speakers. "And what are we supposed to do if we are kicked out of the building by that 'Ministry Policing Squad,' that bastard Wornstock assigned to us, regardless of our rights as wizards? What then?" Hermione stared at him blankly before saying, "We'll hold signs next to the Ministry's entrances. That would also work."

"And if they kicked us out from those areas?" Snape was being incorrigible. He was throwing out the most terrible scenarios. "We could easily give the word in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade – someplace where there's a lot of foot traffic."

"You are too hopeful," Snape said angrily, standing up. "This will never work. Just what did you intend to put on those signs? 'Reject the Ministry's Amendment?' or even better, 'Risk Azkaban by Rejecting New Ministry Amendment'? Do you people honestly believe that will work?"

Hermione's face flushed. "It will encourage people to stand up against the Ministry's tyranny." Severus let out a hearty laugh and asked, "Do you honestly think people would risk Azkaban? Let me ask you this: what happens if, during this rally, you and others get arrested? What then? Will you be sent straight to Azkaban? There's no doubt in my mind that Cliventine would _not_ ease up on the law just for those associated with Harry _James_ Potter and the Order."

Harry, who had been quiet up until this point, whirled around from his chair next to Ginny and said, "That is _not _fair, Sn—Severus. Get over yourself." Snape glared at him, hate shimmering in his black orbs. "That is perfectly fair, Mr. Potter. I will still be your professor in the coming year, and I'll dock you 100 points if you dare call me by my first name in _class_."

"He's just testing the waters of adulthood, Severus. Let him be," Minerva said irritably. "And sit down. We'll call for an amended amendment. That's it: 'Amend the Amendment,' will be written on those signs, Hermione. The rejection of the amendment and the risk of being sent to Azkaban will be up to the individual." Hermione pulled out a small notepad from her back pocket and a pen from the confines of her frizzy hair. Minerva redirected her attention to Snape. "Since you're so opposed to this, I assume you won't be joining in on our rally?"

"Oh no," Severus said, his voice suddenly light. "I will be at home with a mug of butterbeer, sitting in front of a hot fire, wondering exactly how much I'll have to spend on bailing at least one of you—" he looked directly at Hermione, "—out of a holding cell! All of your brash stupidity astounds me."

Hermione flushed with rage and stared coldly at him, but before she could throw back a retort, her face lightened and she said, "You won't have to spend a Knut. We'll be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and we _won't_ be thrown into Azkaban. Not even a holding cell. You just watch." These words ended the meeting…and everyone, except Severus Snape, was resolved to attend the rally that was to be held the following day.

* * *

**Notes: **Sorry for the uber long delay, but finals are coming up and I've been swamped with both work and study. I hope to write more soon! Read and Review please!


	7. Chapter 7

**Death to Freedom, Birth to Hell**

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**Author's Notes**: So sorry for the lack of an update recently. It's been SO INCREDIBLY busy at my college – I received the Academic Hall of Fame award (along with a few other awards for English/Literature/Art) and have been working full time on the side. I apologize for how long it's taken me to update. I should've had time during Spring Break, but I worked all Spring Break and wrote over 15 essays for scholarships during it. What can I say? I'm poor, I need money to go to college and I am grateful for any job opportunity that comes my way. That and I'm working on a book which I hope will turn out the way I want…so far, it's decent, but I could really use a professional proofreader. I probably won't get one, so that's fine, but I'd like one. Also, I have created a new account on where I plan to publish short online fiction pieces. The name is DKHouglum on there. I haven't uploaded anything on there yet, but if all goes well, I should have something submitted before August.

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**Summary: **The Golden Trio never finished their 7th year at Hogwarts. They are called back to school to graduate to help them attain their desired careers, but a new Minister for Magic creates problems for them. MarriageLaw, Non-Slash, MPREG.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and Warner Brothers does…sadly.

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August 20th, 1998 -

The next day was gloomier than Hermione had anticipated, but she was excited nonetheless. She was so excited she could barely sleep and launched out of bed by four, a full four hours before they were to head out, made breakfast without Mrs. Weasley's help and later woke Ron, Harry, the twins, and the rest of the Weasleys.

Ron was the grumpiest…as usual. "Do we _have_ to do this? I mean, don't you think the politicians themselves will fight it? I'm sure that they'd do a better job at it than us…and our pathetic _Amend the Amendment_ signs…" Ron said bitterly, glaring at the magic red paint on the wide poster board.

"Ron, if we don't do something, we run the risk of losing our rights, our free-will…we lose the right that allows us to choose who to marry. We can't always rely on the Wizengamot's politicians to fight for us. We need to do everything in our power to change this, or else it may not change and we'll be forced into a marriage set up by the _government_. Do you realize how horrible that will be, Ron? It's like designating fate as the national government and everything we do is pre-determined by the government. Freewill will be knocked out of society and we'll be doomed to live a life without control. I couldn't stand that…could you, Ron?"

Ron grumbled something about it being too early and left the table, probably going to brush his rancid morning breath out of his mouth or at least that's what Hermione hoped he was going to do. Perhaps it would put him in a better mood. The twins seemed to be in good spirits, though. They said hello to Hermione and showed her their signs. Fred and George, the wild geniuses they were, created signs that sparkled and changed words every few minutes. "It doesn't spray sparks everywhere or cause fireworks to go off by a trigger, does it?" Hermione asked, suddenly wary.

"Don't worry about anything like that, Hermione. We promise they won't do anything outrageous," said Fred. "Yeah, they won't do any of the things of you've mentioned, we promise," said George. "You're sure?" Hermione asked. "Of course we are. Right, Fred?" "Right, George." They patted each other on the back and Hermione rolled her eyes. _Twins,_ she thought.

8 o' clock finally rolled around and everyone was ready to go to the Ministry for the protest. It wasn't something anyone particularly looked forward to-on your feet for hours, waving signs, and giving angry looks to passersby were just a few of the reasons nobody enjoyed the whole protest experience. They all marched into the Weasley living room and began their walk into the green fire.

The walk into the Ministry's lobby was a somber one. Each person floo'ed individually into the grand dark green-marbled entrance and walked towards the front desk, signs raised high above their heads. "H-hey!" shrieked the wizard and witch duo at the front. "Y-you can't do that!" the witch stammered.

"Of course we can," said Fred, his flashing sign raised high above head, leaning forward, and a hand on his hip, smirking at the witch at the desk. George came forward and repeated the same action, making the witch do a double take. It seemed as if they were teasing her. "It's our right to peacefully protest, right? Especially over something as unfair as this."

The witch had trouble forming words and instead muttered something along the lines of, "If I see any of you try anything…" The protest started to gain a crowd of angry witches and wizards within the hour, all of them coming forth to protest with them about this predicament. When a good chunk of them realized that it was Harry Potter who was with the original protesting group, an even larger crowd gathered around the entrance. Some stared, others were smiling, some joined the protesters, and that was when calamity struck.

Just because it is supposed to be a silent protest doesn't mean it will end up that way. A few rabble-rousers came to the "rescue" of the protesters and began their angry tirades on the Ministry. "They can't do that!" hissed Hermione at Harry, using both hands to clutch her sign. "Well, we can't just stop them! They're doing the right thing! Who wouldn't want to yell about this—it's the worst bill they've ever passed to date. Not even the stingiest of Purebloods would agree to this sort of thing!" Harry hissed back, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

Hermione moaned as their yelling got louder and the group became much more volatile. She became nervous. She thought about casting a silencing spell. It would delay trouble for the time being. Ministry officials were beginning to gather at the massive entryways and above them near the balconies. They looked angry. "We're trying!" shouted one of them, but a man roughly pulled him back. It was Crabbe and he dragged the man away from the balcony. The poor man seemed to be yelling about the Wizengamot's troubles.

This just made the new protesters even angrier and the Ministry guards began to come out of the corridors and rooms in droves. "Shit!" Ron whispered frantically. "They're going to kick us out for sure! What do we do, Hermione?"

It became worse than that as they edged closer. The guards began to swivel their wands up in down in a threatening manner and Hermione felt her hands fidgeting with her sign. "Keep your ground," whispered McGonagall, her thick Scottish accent shining through. "They're just trying to make everyone uncomfortable to keep a degree of authority."

Unfortunately, this just made the joining crowd even more riled than before and they began to swivel their own wands just as threateningly. "This could be bad," Hermione whispered to Ron and he nodded. "Alright," yelled on of the guards. "You've had your show, now be off with you! I don't want anyone causing any trouble."

"Have we caused you any trouble?" Hermione asked, her tone reeking of young confidence. The guard shrugged. "Your group is causing quite a stir around the Ministry. Officials can't get their work done. People on general business are worried about passing through this entryway. I'd say that's trouble," replied the guard.

"If the Officials can't get their own work done, then their lack of concentration is their own problem. This is supposed to be a peaceful protest so anyone may enter through the lobby without fear. We are **not** causing trouble," Hermione replied calmly. "Really now?" the guard replied in a singsong tone, almost as if he were flirting with her. "Angry glares as people walk down the hallway? Signs that would make even the most seasoned prisoner of Azkaban blanch? You do understand what you all are risking by your protest, don't you?"

A unified, "Yes," echoed around the lobby and a few passersby watched as red, angry sparks flew from the wands of the members of either side. The guard, upon receiving an order from a particularly angry official on an above balcony, grabbed Hermione by the arm and began dragging her across the slick floor. McGonagall stepped forward and grabbed Hermione's other arm. _Oh wonderful, a tug of war_, Hermione thought. "Unhand her," McGonagall said sharply, her Gryffindor spirit revealing itself. Oh, the woman was fierce when she wanted to be. After all, she had dueled Snape so intensely before the Hogwarts battle, that when she usurped Snape as Headmistress, no one had attempted to stop her. Not even Snape had protested the change. Perhaps that was because he was exhausted and ill after Nagini's bites (these still pained him and he was often forced to wear high collars and scarves to cover up the scars left by it). Even to this day he was surprised that he had survived, even with the Dead-Man Walking Draft. He was grateful that he had been found by that 3rd year Ravenclaw, and he was grateful that the girl had been clever enough to know how to stop the flow of blood exiting from the open neck wounds. He made a note to watch her progress at Hogwarts carefully. But his exhaustion had prevented him from making any sort of reclamation towards his previous Headmaster position, and it was assumed that he was either content at the change or fearful of McGonagall's wrath.

A flicker of fear whipped across the guard's face, but his eyes glassed over and he gripped Hermione's arm even tighter. "I will not. You and the others **will** disband or I **will** be forced to put all of you under arrest." Everyone stood stock still, ignoring the threat. The guard snorted. "Fine, then. Looks like all of you are going to Azkaban. Hope the dementors don't kiss you."

* * *

The guard's threat appeared unfounded. They never even got close to Azkaban: they were simply thrown in a holding cell. They fought back (of course they did-they were Gryffindors) but were quickly outnumbered by the guards of the Ministry. They had their wands taken away from them and locked in a storage compartment for "future logs." A rapid series of spells were fired and somehow Bill managed to sneak Fleur away from the fight so that Fleur would not be holed up in a cell such as this small and grimy one. That or perhaps find some money or someone rich enough to bail them out.

Harry was the unfortunate victim of a "Locomotor Mortis," and then an "Incarcerous." He had attempted (and failed) to fend off the attack simply because he was also the victim of a "Stupefy." Gryffindor's always fought to the finish. The similar happened to the other members of the group and when all was said and done, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Tonks were all stuck together in the cell…and the cell was terribly small and terribly dirty.

"Well," sighed Minerva, half-heartedly. "At least there were reporters there. This should at least get us in the papers." Sirius huffed in annoyance, circled the magicked bars once, and plopped down next to Harry. "Oh Minerva, please drop the Happy Hufflepuff act—it's bound to make us sick." Minerva, looking a bit ruffled, said, "I'm surprised you were never sorted into Slytherin like your relatives, Sirius; you're quite the pessimist."

Sirius winced (she had obviously pinched a nerve) and sighed irritably. "They gave us bail, right?" "Right," muttered Lupin. "Oh, great. We'll have to pay the babysitter extra if we don't get out in the next two hours," he commented, staring a particularly large clock outside. "Wonderful," muttered Tonks. "And to think we're already paying her so much already on account of Teddy being an Animagus."

"Don't worry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley who understood the common newlywed predicament—lack of money and even more so since Tonks was the main provider during the holidays. Remus had been promised a job as an adjunct professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Snape did not feel that he needed a "substitute," but relented anyways. After all, he was getting fairly worn and tired of fighting his way through wizarding academia.

"We'll chip in," she said. Arthur, who had gotten a different, more prominent job at the Ministry after the War, was working, not as an Auror but as the head of the Muggle-Watch department. It was his job to oversee all the Muggle-Watchers, or those who made sure that if there was a magical incident in front of Muggles they would either have their memories modified or their memories would be, "Obliviated." Of course, being the head of a department, and such an important department as that, meant more income for the Weasley household, but more work hours with both the Misuse of Muggle and Magical Artifacts departments. Some days he came home so ragged, he simply went upstairs to their bedroom and fell asleep with his clothes on.

Ron and Hermione, now sitting together, looked absolutely miserable. Hermione was facing one direction and Ron was facing its opposite. "I can't believe we even tried this," muttered Ron. "I can't believe I was even talked into it!" "Well, it's your own fault for lacking a boundary, Ron," Hermione huffed, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs. Her feet began twitch. "Besides, I thought you didn't want to marry a _bitch_." "I don't!" cried Ron, and he leaned his head against the bars of the holding cell. "When do you think we'll get out of here?"

"Hopefully by tonight," answered Harry, his glasses tilting dangerously on the tip of his nose. "I mean…with Bill and Fleur gone we might just be able to get someone to bail us. If they do, I can always pay them back if they really want me to."

"I hope you live up to your word, Mr. Potter, for you know how I detest liars," sneered a familiar voice. Harry, Remus, Sirius, and McGonagall all got up from their spots on the floor. "Snape?" Sirius said, obviously confused. "What're you doing here?" "Bailing you out, of course," Snape drawled lazily. "And I must say, they kept a pretty penny over each and every one of your heads. It was quite disturbing how many galleons I had to extract from my account at Gringotts. Thus, Mr. Potter, you will pay me back half the price it cost to get you all out. Merlin, I have never had to pay such a hefty fee."

"Sure," Harry mumbled. "Thanks for getting us out. How'd you know?" "Mr. Bill and Mrs. Fleur told me," Snape said, and he stepped back a second to allow the guard to unmagick the bars so he could unlock the cell's door. "They also chipped in their galleons and so I only had to pay two-third's of the price. You should be happy we could afford that much. Did you people really think this would work? Tch, how foolish."

"Always one for the dramatics, eh?" Remus joked, hands stuck in pockets. "Well, thanks for getting me out—I would've hated to have been stuck in there during a full moon." Everybody glanced at each other, blanching. What if that had happened? What if Remus had in fact transformed while everyone was in the cell? This they obviously did not think through.

"We were hasty," said Hermione. "We should've known better than that." "Yes, you should've. But thank Merlin one of you had enough sense to sneak away and find someone of value. Though, I am surprised. The Headmistress of the school and Hogwarts most honorable scholar coming up with such a cockamamie plan? It truly boggles the mind how two such esteemed people can decide to—"

"Just watch the damn Prophet tomorrow," interrupted Minerva. "There were reporters. We got the word out." "Words can be twisted, Minerva; you know this. Even more so now that we've got this sly Cliventine as a Minister." "Enough chit-chat!" growled the guard. "I can't keep all of you in here _all_ day. Too many of you. Now, you understand the agreement of the bail—if you all show up either tomorrow or any of the days before the 31st to be sorted with your significant other, you'll be spared an automatic hearing at the Wizengamot's courts to determine your Azkaban sentence." Snape sighed, and sidestepped away from the holding cell's entrance so they could all file out. "Well, you see how well your _peaceful protest _plan worked out," Snape continued, an arrogant look plastered firmly onto his face. "I have a feeling you'll all regret your plans by daybreak and wish you were all sitting in front of a hot fire with some butterbeer and a good book… just like me."

* * *

**Author's Notes: ** Oh god, this was sooooo much fun to write after the movie. It was fantastic, by the way. Alan Rickman totally deserves an Oscar for his breathtaking, heartrending performance and if he gets snubbed, Harry Potter gets snubbed, or if Ralph Fiennes steals the "Best Supporting Actor," award, then I will be extremely upset. Please READ AND REVIEW.


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